In Proper Course
by CatKatan
Summary: FIRST FIC - Could use reviews. The new teacher is settling in despite mysterious circumstances and Snape's obvious discomfort. Harry and his friends get used to the sixth year with as much good spirit as they can manage, and Albus is working on a new plan
1. Prologue

If it must be told, this is but a cleverly orchestrated sham so that Snape may have a fine, long-lived, frills and catches romance, and perhaps eventually something a bit more earthy. That said, I am quite fond of Rowling's characters and original plotline and so am not keen on greatly altering canon(though mild to extreme interpretation is of course sometimes a necessity and fun), so I just made up a load of new plotlines anda newpivotal character. Enjoy!

Prologue

The light of dawn spilled into the vast room as a cloaked wizard irritably jerked open the velvet curtains. Twelve other witches and wizards were illuminated in the sparse room, though all were cloaked save one. They had been there all night, debating an issue they could not reach consensus on. It was no wonder, of course, as it had to do directly with the wizard who had turned their world on its head and given it a few good spins, the wizard who had for many years cowed almost all who opposed him, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord Voldemort.

Albus Dumbledore, his long beard and hair almost wholly grey with the advent of old age, raised a bushy eyebrow at the man by the window.

"Thank you, Marcus," he said. "I did not realize it was morning already. Now, you may not approve, but this is the best course of action." Albus continued to argue the stance he had held all night.

Several hooded figures shuffled uncertainly. The wizard by the window shook his head.

"That is purely a matter of opinion, Albus," the man hissed. "Do you realize what you're proposing? This...child is his flesh and blood. There is no doubt in my mind that...that to do this would risk the exposure of our world. It's...it's risking his infiltration into the heart of our forces." Albus raised his hand calmly.

"I understand your concerns. They are valid and potent," the wizened man conceded. "But after a thorough inspection, I must assure you they are unfounded. Marcus...this child's life rests in our hands. Had I not discovered her existence and rescued her, the Dark Lord would have had yet another defense, a very terrible defense that may well one day nullify all our efforts." The other strode towards the older man, still shaking his head.

"Albus, you cannot know what spells he has on her, or if she will betray you when she is old enough. If you had not discovered her, you would not be proposing sending her away to where she might...might cause trouble in the Muggle world. You would not be proposing to accept her as our charge, to allow her a chance to expose us to..."

"That will not come to pass," Albus interrupted. His blue eyes steeled on Marcus. "That child was not the product of a respectable arrangement, if I may be so proper. The Dark Lord did not intend her as a legitimate heir. He had one and only one use for her. She is mere fodder, my friends. An innocent child, regardless of what you suspect." Marcus scoffed, but before he could speak a thin witch stepped forward.

"I cannot say I agree completely with this, but...neither can I ignore the circumstances," she spoke, her thin bony fingers clasped in front of her. "Albus. This is a dangerous decision, and under suspicious terms.

How do we know that he did not intend for you to get hold of her as you did?" Albus nodded, smiling at the woman.

"I know well how this seems. I cannot allay all of your fears, I am certain," he said. "I can only say I will accept full responsibility for this decision, and that I will see to her care myself."

The group exchanged looks. Whispers drifted around the room as those gathered discussed. The witch walked next to Albus and nodded supportively.

Finally, after long minutes of debate, Marcus sighed. He shook his head and turned back to Albus. They stared at each other. Then, slowly, the cloaked wizard bowed his head.

"Alright, Albus... Alright," he said. "We will help. I hope, for her sake and ours, that you are correct."


	2. Thisbe Threadgood

Thisbe Threadgood

Many, many years later...

September was here again, and Harry Potter stood at the train station between platforms nine and ten, waiting for his best friend Ronald Weasley to arrive with the rest of his red-haired family. He was on his way to Hogwarts, the school for witchcraft and wizardry, like so many years before.

Every fall before had met Harry with anticipation and excitement to return to the castle that had become his home - the world he had never known, but should have. He should have been excited again, eager, happy and animated as any young man returning to the place he had come to love. But he was not quite up for it.

He felt himself consumed with a wide range of emotions, all impossible to mistake for the cheerful feelings of times before. A summer with the Dursleys had done little to ease the pain of losing his godfather, Sirius Black. Nor did he find himself any better equipped to deal with whatever horrors he might face, now that Voldemort was on the loose again.

Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, had kept in close contact with him throughout the summer, as did Ron and his other best friend, Hermione Granger. He knew Dumbledore had something in mind for him this year. He also knew the time was drawing nearer when he would finally have to deal with the man who had killed his parents, his godfather, and had effectively taken Harry's own life.

Harry sighed and frowned. 'Lovely sentiments to be having the first day of school.' He had spent his summer being angry, furious even. Depressed. Regretful. Apathetic. Lonely. Bitter.

Now, all he felt was exhausted. He just wanted to return to Hogwarts, to see his friends again. And after many sleepless nights and correspondence with Dumbledore, he wanted to finally face Voldemort, and put an end to his legacy.

"Harry! Hey, Harry, you're early!"

Harry turned to see Ron running towards him, pushing his cart of luggage with his sister Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley trailing behind. A smile crept across Harry's face as Ron reached him, red-faced and grinning.

"Hi, Ron. Yes, I know. The Dursleys dropped me off early," Harry said. Ron made a face, assuming that concerning the Dursleys, early could have meant anytime this week.

"Come on, you two, the train will be leaving any minute," Mrs. Weasley hurried them before they could fall into conversation. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, and Harry found himself smiling again.

They made their way to Platform nine and three quarters and boarded the train that would take them back to school. Ron kissed his mother and father goodbye and helped his sister load her luggage. They found Hermione, who'd been running up and down the train looking for them, and settled into a coach for the long ride home.

Before long the three of them were chatting about the summer and the coming year at school. The conversation had moments of lightness, but Ron and Hermione were a little subdued. They did not want to breach some subjects, preferring to keep Harry's mind on other things for as long as possible. Harry knew how they felt, and didn't blame them. He was a little grateful.

They heard the whistle blow and felt the train come to life, and as they pulled out of the station they could hear a distant peal of thunder.

"I didn't know it was going to rain," Ron muttered.

"It was in the papers, Ron. Anyway, we have to prepare ourselves. We have only two years left before we graduate. And that means even less time to prepare," Hermione continued. She'd already begun ranting about their tests and pending graduation. The idea of only two years left was something frightful to her, and Harry and Ron began to wonder how much more of this they could take on the long ride.

"Come off it, Hermione. We're not even to the school yet," Ron said. She frowned and ignored him.

"Now, I've been thinking about it, and I think I've worked out a good study schedule for us this year. Considering the classes we'll be taking, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts meetings..." Harry blinked.

"Wait, what? We're continuing that this year?" he asked. Hermione scoffed.

"Don't be silly, of course we are," she said. She faltered, glancing at Harry. "I imagine that...that we'll need it now more than ever."

Ron looked between the two of them. Harry held her gaze for a moment. He smiled, finally, and opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the three of them jumped as the door banged open.

They whirled to see a woman in a dark brown cloak and layered, wispy hair standing with a ferret under one arm and holding a handle connected to a large, cumbersome looking trunk with the other. Despite her pleasant features, there was a haggard look about her. Her eyes were dark with exhaustion and she leaned against the door jamb for support.

"Beg your pardon, but this is the last coach with any room left," she said, giving them a smile as she began to pull the large trunk into the small room. She took an ebony wand out of her scarlet robes.

"Hullo," Ron managed. Hermione and Harry smiled in return.

"Wingardium Leviosa," she said, giving the wand a flick and floating the trunk up to a compartment above the seats. She took a seat, smoothing her robes and resting the tawny ferret in her lap. She took them all in with a grin. "Thisbe Threadgood. And this little one is Tacklejoy. I take it you all are students at Hogwarts?"

"Er...yes. I'm Ron Weasley, and this is Hermione Granger," Ron spoke up. Hermione shot him a look, then nodded to the woman.

"Pleased to meet you," she said politely. Ron motioned to Harry, and his face pinkened.

"And this is..." he faltered. Harry turned to her and smiled amicably.

"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you," he supplied.

He thought he saw her large brown eyes flicker wider for a moment. She nodded in recognition.

"Ah. I see, well... It's very nice to meet you finally," Thisbe said. She held him in her gaze another moment. "I…knew your parents when I went to Hogwarts,

so many years ago. I imagine you've heard this before, but you do so resemble them." Harry's eyes widened. Ron and Hermione glanced at him. "They were fine people, and good friends." She smiled, somewhat sadly, Harry saw. 'Well, no

bloody wonder,' he thought harshly.

Snapping out of her study of the young man, she gave the three a look and chuckled.

"Well, I hope you all don't mind, but I've had a rough trip in getting here, and..." Thunder crashed outside, causing the four of them to jump. The ferret called Tacklejoy chattered angrily and moved to scuttle into Thisbe's robes. She raised an eyebrow at its attentions and looked back to the teenagers. "I was saying, if you don't mind, I'm going to settle in for some rest while we make our way to Hogwarts."

"No, of course not. We'll try to keep quiet," Harry offered. Ron looked at him as if he had no intention of hushing up around friends he hadn't seen in months so some stranger could enjoy a nap. Thisbe shook her head.

"Don't worry. I'll have no trouble sleeping, I assure you. Catch up all you like," she said. She stared at Harry again, smiling strangely as though she something more was on her mind. He began to feel a bit awkward. But finally

Thisbe snapped her eyes away from him and cheerily proclaimed, "Well, good night!" She settled into the seat, pulled a hood over her head, and promptly began to snore softly.

Ron blinked.

"Well, that was a bit odd." Hermione frowned and poked him.

"Be polite, Ron," she said, probably afraid Thisbe was not as asleep as she seemed.

Harry continued to look at the newcomer until the ferret poked its head out of her robes and glared at him. He looked away quickly.

"Who do you suppose she is?" he asked them after they had sat for a few minutes in silence, listening to the shuffle of the animal inside the woman's robes. Whoever she was, she had known his parents. Not something he should be surprised by, as they obviously had not lived in a shack on some remote mountainside...

Ron shrugged and began to rustle through his pack for change. Hermione seemed more intent on the issue. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the woman's luggage.

"I don't know, Harry, but if I were to guess I'd say she was a teacher," she looked back to them. "After all, who else would be on the train that wasn't a student?" Ron emerged from his bag with a few sickles.

"D'you mean the new Dark Arts professor? Well, why didn't she say so if she was?" he asked. Hermione frowned.

"I don't know. Why should she?" she responded. "Besides, she's obviously worn out. I wouldn't want to carry on a conversation if I were so tired I passed out nearly as soon as I sat down." Harry nodded quietly. Whoever she was, she was another who had known his parents. He stifled his growing curiosity before he found himself interrupting the woman's rest.

"I wonder where she traveled from, then," he mused. Ron shrugged again.

"Dunno. I don't think I've heard of her before," he said. "Thisbe...Threadgood, was it? Nope. Doesn't ring a bell. Do you suppose the trolley will be coming by soon?"

Hermione tsked. She turned to Harry.

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough anyway. In the meantime, we should be discussing how we plan to prepare for our exams. And honestly, Ron, I _can_ see you making that face. The door window does reflect, you know."


	3. Greetings and Announcements

Thanks for the reviews. Setting the groundwork for an actual attempt at novelestic stories can take a bit, but it will pick up shortly. I'll leave the actual lengthy stuff to Rowling.

Also, yes, rights belong to Rowling. (Except for Thisbe)

---

Greetings and Announcements

The night soon found a mass of students, most old, some timid first years, on their way to the great castle of Hogwarts across the lake. The storm had let up some, so the new students suffering on the dark waters in their little boats only dealt with a light drizzle of cold rain.

Soon they made their way into the entrance hall, pulling luggage and cages and bags behind them.

Harry, Hermione and Ron came to a stop, catching their breath and looking around their school for the first time since spring. Hermione smiled.

"It's so good to be back! I always miss being around magic for so long," she said. Ron shrugged.

"I miss Quidditch most. Hey, Harry, do you know who'll be replacing...Harry? What do you keep zoning out for?"

Harry snapped out of his scan around the room and looked at Ron.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized, and continued to look around. "I was just wondering where that woman went to. Miss Threadgood. I saw her talking to Hagrid earlier. He seemed to know her." Ron furrowed his brow and scanned. In a few moments he tugged at Harry's elbow.

"There she is, Harry! Talking to Professor McGonagell," he said, pointing. Hermione tsked and pulled Ron's offending hand down as they all looked up the stairs to the two witches. McGonagell was chatting politely with the other woman.

"Well, how do you figure..." Ron began, but stopped cold as a dark shadow spilled across the floor next to them.

They felt an ominous presence creep over them and were not the least bit surprised when not two seconds latera familiar sneering, silky voice whispered down at them.

"Shall I assume you three do not have a good reason for loitering about the halls and clogging the floors with your sprawling luggage?"

They turned to see the familiar pasty face and black, accusing eyes of Severus Snape, notorious Potions master and student tormentor of Hogwarts, glaring snidely, as was his custom. Harry felt a surge of hot, steady rage. He still had not forgiven Snape. He very much doubted he ever would, for what had happened to Sirius.

"What do you mean?" Ron shot back daringly. "We're not the only students out here." Snape raised a dark eyebrow.

"Is that so? And how many of those students are standing with their mouths agape like dumbstruck Muggles and ignoring that there is in fact a ceremony about to take place?" They looked around then, and noticed that indeed, the others were tucking their luggage away and filing into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. Ron grumbled resentfully, but obediently grabbed up his bags.

Harry looked back at Snape, who pursed his lips at the boy's continued crime of not hustling away that very second. Harry ignored him, intent on answers.

"I was only wondering about the new...if that woman is the new Dark Arts teacher," he explained, gesturing up the stairs where the witch who was shaking Professor McGonagell's hand had started down the steps.

"I am quite sure that is none of your concern, Mr. Potter. All will..." Snape's drawling voice cut short abruptly.

Harry blinked in confusion as the Potions master's eyes widened in shock. He was looking slowly over where Harry had pointed. Harry frowned, glancing between Snape's befuddled expression and the stairs that Threadgood was descending.

"Professor...?" he began, but was immediately cut short by a curt flick of Snape's hand. The black eyes turned back to Harry,less clearin focused hateful intensity.

"The ceremony will not wait for you, Potter, as much as you may like to think otherwise. Get a move on," he snapped. The professor turned without another word and strode away, rather hurriedly, Harry thought.

He shook his head. Apparently Snape knew that woman. But that made sense, didn't it? They'd gone to school together, after all, if Threadgood knew Harry's parents. Why did he seem unnerved by her, then? She hadn't seemed the type to have taunted Snape...but what did Harry know? He hadn't thought his father was that type either.

He hoped she had given his feet a permanent hex. Something nasty and to do with enormous corns, and perhaps that was why he ran from her. Though Harry imagined if it had been corns, it'd be more of a hobble than a run. He did not have time to ponder further as Hermione gave his arm a tug.

Harry followed his friends into the Great Hall and they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and mentor and friend to Harry, stepped forward with the Sorting Hat and set it on a stool before the room. It sang its song as it did every year, and then Professor McGonagell began to call the first years forward for their sorting into respective houses.

Harry whispered to Hermione and Ron what he had just witnessed, and together they turned their attention to the witch who was now seated next to Hagrid. She was chatting discreetly with the Headmaster, her ferret nowhere to be seen.

She was a fairly pretty woman, with a charming smile and engaging eyes, but otherwise seemed perfectly ordinary. Her layered brown hair wisped out in elfish locks, making her look rather impish. Taking into account the mischievous winks and smirks she kept sending at Albus, of all people, Harry could believe her causing trouble as a young girl at Hogwarts.

He looked to Snape, sitting on the other side of the table. The dark, brooding Potions master was especially sulky tonight. He kept sending discrete glances towards Threadgood.

Harry frowned. Though it made sense if she was the new Dark Arts teacher, he would send her dirty looks, Harry did not think it was about that. There was something calculating...thoughtful about how he observed her.

Dumbledore patted Threadgood's shoulder as the ceremony ended and stepped back to his platform. He threw his arms wide and brought the clamor to a dull whisper as attention turned to him.

"Dear students... It is with great pleasure and some trepidation that I welcome you back to another year at Hogwarts," he began. The students started to exchange looks. They had wondered how this year would be, after all that happened. Would it be as any other year? Would they continue on as though He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not a looming threat over the wizarding world?

"We have gone through much together these past few years. Your young ears have heard many unfortunate things, and more than a few of you have seen far worse. I will not deceive you and say that all has settled over the summer, that you return to a Hogwarts untouched by developments in the wizarding world, and that this new year will be one of more peaceful times."

Ron snorted.

"Well, that's cheerful," he whispered. Then, "Ow!" as Hermione prodded him.

Dumbledore raised a calming hand as the murmurs began to spread.

"We face difficult times, my young pupils. And we are all together in this fight, young and old alike. The Dark Lord has never been one to discriminate." He waited a moment as the murmurs increased at the mention of the Dark Lord. "Now, I can assure you all, that despite these sinister times, Hogwarts is one of the safest places you could be. As you may be wondering, classes will be as always. Quidditch is scheduled as always, and the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s will be administered...as always. Life will continue as normally as possible, though we shall deal with issues as we must. We will work to support each other, to live life as best we can, and carry on."

Harry frowned uncertainly. Albus took a breath, smiling at the hesitant faces staring expectantly at him.

"This year will hold challenges as never before, but I believe if we stand together, we will be prepared for them. Now, on that note, let me introduce a new member to our family, Thisbe Threadgood. She has cordially accepted the position of professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm sure we all wish her luck in breaking the one year curse." And he chuckled despite the ill-timed foreboding joke.

All eyes turned to the grinning witch as she stood and gave a nod and casual wave to the crowd. Harry watched the frown of Snape's face deepen.

"Professor Threadgood is a former auror, and has been working as a researcher and academic for some time now. I'm sure she will prove more than adequate," Dumbledore continued. Ron, Hermione and Harry looked at each other. "Now... I am certain everyone is eager to start the feast, and meet the new year with full stomachs and good rest. So, without further ado... Enjoy!"

The Headmaster waved his hands and a vast, glorious buffet appeared along the house tables. Dig in the students did, hungry from the long train ride and eager to bury their worries by stuffing their faces with tasty meats and surprising desserts.

Harry was approached by many old friends, Dean and Seamus, Colin and Ginny. It was good to catch up, and for the most part few people did not speak to him about Voldemort. He suspected they were all too afraid.

He did hear his old nemesis, Draco Malfoy, muttering conspicuously from the Slytherin table, but he was intent on ignoring him for as long as possible.

Harry did his best to enjoy himself. Hermione and Ron sensed Harry's depression, and suspected correctly there was little they could do. They had the year ahead of them, trials yet to face... They settled for promising silently to themselves that they would stand by him, then went back to enjoying the exquisite food.


	4. Evening Encounters

Creative property of Rowling (generally speaking)

Evening Encounters

Students shuffled up the stairs after the meal, full, tired, and eager to fall fast asleep in the comfort of their dormitories.

New teacher of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, Thisbe Threadgood, stood chatting idly with the Head of Gryffindor house, Minerva McGonagell.

"I was quite surprised to hear about your appointment. Yet another former student I'll be working alongside," Minerva said idly. Thisbe raised an eyebrow at the older witch.

"Surprised, were you? Well, I must say, it's not quite what I expected either," Thisbe grinned.

"Yes. Interesting, isn't it..." Minerva turned her steady gaze on Thisbe. "...how some things turn out not at all how we expect them."

The younger witch blinked in a curious and searching expression, wondering for a moment just what the other meant. Then the thin, tight lips of Minvera twitched at the corners, and Thisbe smiled. They nodded to each other.

"Professors," came a friendly voice. They turned and saw the Headmaster approach. "Minerva, my dear, would you mind if I borrowed our new professor?"

McGonagell nodded to Dumbledore.

"Quite alright, Albus. I must be getting things in order for the first day of class anyway." She smiled at Thisbe. "It's been lovely catching up with you, dear. I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow."

"The same, Minerva. Have a good night," she smiled, watching her former teacher as she swept stiffly away down the corridors.

A warm hand set down on her slim shoulder, and she turned to look into the friendly gaze of the Headmaster.

"Albus, it's good to see you again," she said.

"Under such circumstances, there is no better sight than old friends," he said warmly. His gaze grew serious. "Provided, of course, that those old friends do not feel the urge to relive certain events. Such as the destruction of any Divination classrooms from an unruly prank."

Thisbe suddenly became quite interested in a painting on the wall featuring a pair of archers contemplating an apple in the distance, and did not respond. One noticed her intense gaze and looked around uncertainly.

"What?" he asked, scratching his head with his bow staff.

Albus chuckled and took her arm, walking the darkened halls with her.

"I take it the trip here was uneventful?" he asked casually.

"Oh, certainly. Save for a few ambushes and what I think might've been a banshee or a very drunk witch, I'd say it went very well," she said. "Have you given thought on how to proceed with our studies?" She saw him nod in the dimness of the empty halls.

"I have. Weekly meetings in my office should suffice for now. I have just spoken with our Potions Master about an appropriate concoction, and Professor McGonagell, as I'm certain she has informed you, will be working on a sufficient charm. The Order members will do what they can as well," he said. Thisbe nodded and sighed.

She looked around at the walls as they walked. A faint smile crept over her face.

"It's been so long since I've walked these corridors. I've missed them." She shook her head slowly. "I was...surprised, Albus. Harry has grown into a fine young man. I've learned so much about him since I've been back."

Albus's hand tightened on her arm as he stopped and looked down at her, his eyes twinkling.

"It will be alright, Thisbe. Have faith."

Thisbe held his kind gaze for a quiet moment, then shook her head and waggled a finger at him.

"Albus, if I didn't know better I'd think you were making a pass at me," she winked at him. Albus scoffed as they began walking again.

"I daresay the thought seems mildly inappropriate. Are you implying that I have ulterior motives, Miss Threadgood?"

"You? I'd eat my hat if you didn't. Mind, we're talking generally."

"You don't own a hat, my dear."

"Nothing wrong with a safe bet."

They chuckled together as they arrived outside Thisbe's room.

She bid Dumbledore goodnight, then paused as the Headmaster turned to seek out his own comfy bed for the night.

"Albus, wait a moment," she stopped him. He looked back, folding his ancient hands in front of his robes. "Does Severus know... Does he know why you've asked him to help?" The wizard quirked one wispy gray eyebrow at Thisbe. She raised one back. "What? I'm only curious."

"He knows that the potion is for you. But...no, Thisbe. He does not know why. Of course, he is an intelligent man. And I cannot say what Voldemort will reveal. I would not worry so. If all goes well, it will not matter what your parentage is," Albus said. He smiled. "Now... I suggest you get a good night's rest. You've had a rough journey."

Thisbe smiled back and nodded.

"Alright, Albus. Goodnight," she said, waving him off. He bowed as she retreated into her new quarters. The woman turned back one last time. "And Albus... Thank you."

The Headmaster nodded.

"Of course, Thisbe. Sleep well."

Albus turned and began his regal shuffle back to his office. He made it to the corner when he stopped and smiled once more into the shadows of the adjacent hallway.

"Good evening, Severus. Have you come to welcome Miss Threadgood?" he asked pleasantly. An unmistakable snort sounded in response, followed by the gliding figure of Severus as he stepped forward with as casual an air as if he were walking around his private quarters.

"I'm certain she feels perfectly welcome without every person at Hogwarts telling her so, Albus," he said mildly.

"I must say that I understand the position this may place you in, Severus," Albus veered the conversation. Snape raised an eyebrow and awaited the Headmaster's concerns with a disinterested patience. "But do not be overly concerned. I would advise that you continue as you must."

"Of course, Albus. I have been doing this for long enough. I can handle myself," he sneered lightly.

"I have no doubts as to your ability. Twas but small reassurance that there is nothing you can reveal to Voldemort that will endanger Thisbe."

"You mean, endanger further," Snape supplied softly. The dark eyes narrowed in a question. Albus nodded.

"I am personally working on that, Severus," he replied. The tall man crossed his arms and steadied his piercing stare on Albus, neverminding to himself that Albus was probably immune to such stares, having been an authority on them.

"Working on...what, exactly?" he asked. The Headmaster smiled faintly.

"Severus, I would think that if there is anything you do not already know about Thisbe, it is because she has chosen not to tell you," he said. "You are friends, after all. I should think she would confide in you if it was necessary."

The Potions master looked undecided about whether he should laugh or scowl as though Albus was an incompetent first year. Deciding the latter was not prudent and the former out of character, he instead nodded curtly and murmured a goodnight, turning on his heel and retreating back into the shadows.

Back in her quarters, Thisbe Threadgood was doing her best to adjust to her first time in Hogwarts in a great many years, and her first time back as anything other than a student. She found it odd to have a room to herself, despite that she was perfectly used to being an independent adult with her own space to walk about naked or decorate as she pleased. Being in _Hogwarts_ without a dormitory, without a room of other classmen and whispers in the beds or chairs around her, as one of the professors those classmen would wonder how their private chambers looked and what masterful things they were up to, was just a bit strange.

Thisbe tossed a few books onto her sparse mattress. Fungal Remedies from 5th Century to Present Day. Twelve Hundred and Fifty Seven Ways to Clean a Laboratory. The Myths of Academia. 'How exceedingly disenchanting,' she smirked. She did not even have the decency to be up to no good, or at least some business endeavoring for a degree of mysticism and danger. All in good time, she nodded to herself.

Thisbe pulled a smaller mahogany chest from her large trunk and set it on her desk. Tacklejoy clawed his way up the bed and rested on his haunches, his beady eyes studying her as she busied unpacking.

Thisbe ran her fingers over the smooth lid of the chest and to the woodworked clasp. She undid the clasp and leaned the lid back slowly, ignoring the ferret as he chittered for a pet.

Inside the chest rested a few items she had packed carefully a few days before, mindful of their delicate or important natures - or perhaps even dangerous in the right temperature.

She grasped an obsidian handle of finely crafted geometric design and lifted it up. The top part was wrapped in a soft cream cloth. Thisbe turned it over in her hands, wondering what opportunity would be best to gift it to the one she had made it for.

The witch sighed and shook her head, placing it in a drawer of the desk and closing it. Not tonight, of course.

She turned back and removed what looked to be a scrying bowl. With the utmost care, Thisbe transplanted the Pensieve to the top of her desk, leaned back and sighed. She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the memory-preserver like a confounding puzzle.

It held a vast amount, far more than most any young witch or wizard would want or need to store. Since she was young, she had been storing away bits and threads, keeping her memories secure to a fairly paranoid degree. She did not often indulge in refreshing them in her mind, as it was rarely necessary and she had been too preoccupied before to bother. It had been many, many years since she had felt an urge to browse through them once more.

But since she had stepped back over the threshold of the castle and seen all the familiar faces and portraits, Thisbe had been suffering uncomfortable tugs at her nostalgic heartstrings.

Her hand crept towards the Pensieve again. She frowned and curled the fingers into a fist. This was no time for silly desires, of course, what with Voldemort's return.

She had wondered when he would. Thisbe had suspected he was not truly gone for some time - there had always been a feeling in her viscera, a certainty of his eventual return, as puzzling but sound as any person who had ever intuited about the status of their blood relations.

And so, with Voldemort back, plotting somewhere, his influence over her as unpredictable as ever, Thisbe considered the wisdom of giving him more access to her mind than she needed to - assuming again that he even had any access. 'Confound life's little uncertainties,' she frowned.

She raised an eyebrow at the Pensieve and licked her lips. Still, a quick peek into her past, if she was selective, would not endanger much.

Thisbe shook her head. But there were certainly many memories that would cause her more pain than anything, she knew. Seeing James and Lily again, or Sirius... 'Oh, bloody hell,' she thought, feeling a sudden rush of heat to her eyes.

Thisbe clenched her eyes tightly and jerked her head in a shake. She took a steadying breath. 'Go on, you silly git, think of something different. Think of being a professor. Who would've thought that? Certainly no one who actually taught me. I should be enjoying myself! A tenure, well. This is exciting, after all.'

Or as exciting as being a professor could be, with the grading and faculty meetings and occasional classroom tedium. She would never have suspected she would be doing so. She had never expected to be accepted to Hogwarts in the first place. That day had been one of the most dumbly shocking and pleasing of her young life. Then of course came her arrival, and her giddy amazement at the world she had been allowed entry to...

Thisbe's hands settled on the Pensieve. Well... It was not as though all the memories were unsafe.

The witch pulled a chair beneath her and pulled her wand from her robes. There was an early one, of her first year - her first week, even - at Hogwarts. With an old friend she meant to make amends with...if he ever stopped avoiding her.

She smiled, tapped the swirling surface of the bowl and leaned forward.


	5. A Memory

Rights and such belong to Rowling - aside from the select few characters(Thisbe)

A Memory

The young girl walked quietly through the immense library, looking from the paper in her hand to the markers on the many shelves of musty, magical books. She delved into a row of shelves where she suspected was the book on mystical ailments she needed. The library was immense, far larger than she had ever encountered. Though that was not saying much, being ten years old and having grown up in the small village that she did. In fact, the only library she had ever encountered before was a shelf of books in her aunt's living room.

So Hogwarts was a bit of a shock to get used to. And she was certain she would get lost in all these long rows of stacks before she found what she was looking for - assuming she would, as at the moment that seemed wishful thinking, she thought as she grimly eyed the hundreds of leather spines.

After a few careful sweeps, she stopped in the center of the vast row. Her eyes widened and she leaned forward, peering through the thicket of spines. There, just on the other side of the stacks, accessible to anyone on the other side, rested her book. It was leaning against some great leather brute of an encyclopedia, just beyond her reach.

The girl looked down either side of the row she was in. They were so wide that she would have a good walk to get to the other side. Biting her lip determinedly, she pushed a few books aside to make room, pressed against the stack for a good angle and slid her arm through the hole.

Her fingers strained towards the book, but it was simply too far.

She sighed, her hand plopping down on the cool wooden shelf. She leaned her head against the books, and in doing so a figure came into view, someone sitting alone in the room on the other side.

It was a young boy, his back to her, merely a few feet away. 'Well, how convenient,' she grinned to herself.

"Hello there," she said pleasantly, standing on her toes to see better. "Excuse me, I don't mean to bother you, but would you mind helping me out for just a moment? I can't reach that book, and I'd rather not walk all the way around for it..."

Only the quiet scrawl of his quill responded. Her brow furrowed. Perhaps he couldn't hear her?

"Ah...Excuse me, but...would you mind?" she pressed, but stopped as the thin shoulders squeezed together and the dark head lifted.

"What I mind..." came the curt, silky reply. "...is sharing this library with lazy fools who find it proper to interrupt me in my work because they cannot take care of their own."

The scrawl turned to an irritable scratch-scratch-stamp-scratch.

Her brown eyes widened. Too taken aback to be angry, she laughed instead. It turned out to be the appropriate response, because at the sound of her astounded giggle the boy whirled in his seat.

He had a thin, pale face, spotted with two or three blemishes. His shoulder-length black hair was stringy and looked as though it had not been washed in a few days, and his black, brooding eyes glared angrily at the young girl behind the books.

"Just what are you laughing at?" he demanded. Seeing she was a first year, he seemed to calm a little. But the annoyance was still clear in his face.

"Something amusing, obviously," she replied. Then she gestured to the book and smiled sweetly. "Since you're turned around, would you mind passing that book to me, please?" He frowned.

"Why don't you get it yourself, first year?" he responded snidely. The girl raised an eyebrow at him.

"My name..." she hesitated to guess his year and sound stupid, then her eyes settled on his robes. "...Syltherin, is Thisbe Threadgood." She sniffed and shrugged. "And I didn't get it because apparently I'm too lazy."

The boy stared hard at her. She stared back, tapping her foot. A tiny smile, barely visible but clearly a break from the aggravated scowl, tugged at the ends of his thin mouth.

Without speaking, he reached out a narrow hand, pulled the book from its place and put it in her reach. He did not let go when she tugged on it, and she looked at him, curious.

"What house are you?" he asked simply. Thisbe blinked at him. He could not see her robes from where he stood, but she wondered why he would want to know.

"Ah...Ravenclaw. Why?" But he had let go with a flip of his hand, snorting in disapproval. She frowned and decided a good row would be in order if he didn't stop being so disagreeable.

"You should know, Threadgood, that the next time you need something and feel too uninspired to walk, you could just summon it," he pointed out haughtily as he turned back to his scrolls. Thisbe tilted her head to the side.

"Summon it?" she began to ask, but the boy had already raised a wand from his side and pointed to a paper on the other side of his table.

"_Accio_," he whispered, and the paper flew to his open hand. The girl's eyes widened. That would have been useful.

Her gaze went from the paper to the back of the boy's dark-haired head. She felt a smile spreading across her face.

Thisbe folded her arms on the shelf and leaned forward.

"Say, you haven't told me your name," she said. But the Syltherin had already forgotten about her existence, his feathered quill twitching away. Thisbe grinned.

"_Accio_!"

The boy's school book flew from the table to her hand. He leapt from his seat and spun around, greasy strands flying. She jumped back quickly as his long arm shot through the opening for her, his face even whiter with anger.

"Give that back!" he snarled.

Thisbe pocketed her wand and flipped the book open to the cover page, scanned, nodded, snapped it shut and handed it back obediently. The boy glared at her as he yanked it from her hand.

"Of course, Sevenus," she smirked playfully.

The glare abated for a second in a look that would almost pass for amusement if he did not seem so incapable of it at that moment. The scowl returned, less harsh this time.

"It's Severus," he corrected haughtily. The hands that had been protectively clutching the book to his chest lowered slowly. He held the young girl's gaze through the hole in the stacks. "Severus Snape."

"Oh. Pleased to meet you, then," she said. Then, discreetly, "You ought to work on your handwriting some, Severus."

The girl smiled. Then, to her surprise, the boy grinned back. It looked a bit awkward after all the scowling, but she welcomed the change.

"And you ought to learn to respect your elders," he smirked. Thisbe laughed again, and this time Severus did not seem so offended by it.

"Oh, sod off," she said. She was starting to enjoy the diversion, but she knew time was short where schoolwork was concerned. Thisbe gave a small wave through the books and smiled again. "Well, I've got to run. See you around, Severus."

The boy nodded. His black eyes followed the girl until she disappeared into the library shelves, then he returned to his seat.

Thisbe made her way back how she had come, her mind returning to the essays waiting to be written. No doubt she would become well acquainted with this library, she thought as she traced her fingers over the leather spines. She wondered if she would see Severus there often. He seemed the bookworm type.

She stopped in her tracks, a few steps out of the library. Albus Dumbledore stood in front of her as though he had been waiting specifically for her to appear. He looked up from a small silver watch in one wizened hand and greeted her with a smile.

"Just on time, Thisbe dear," he said cheerily. The little girl blinked up at him.

"Mr. Dumbledore?" She looked confused. "In time for what? You... Do you mean my sessions? But, didn't we have one a few days ago?" Albus nodded sagely and patted her shoulder, guiding her with him down the hall.

"No, my dear, I am not here for another session. Though now that you are almost a young lady, and here at Hogwarts, I can indulge in my protective nature," he winked. "But later. No, Thisbe, I am here to congratulate you on your sorting." He smiled. Thisbe returned the smile up at him.

"Thank you, sir," she said. "I was a little surprised, actually. I don't know why. It makes sense to be in Ravenclaw, as much as I like my work." Albus nodded as they walked. He did not mention he had been surprised as well.

A very adult Thisbe Threadgood sat up straight and began to blink furiously. She gave her head a shake, clearing the mistiness and reorienting herself in the proper time.

Many years had passed since that day. Countless experiences separated her from the girl who had wandered through that library, the library that did not seem quite so immense anymore. The world was not at all as it had been, and in some ways promised to be no better.

Thisbe ran her hands along the sides of the Pensieve and nodded to herself. Well. Then certain things had to be seen to, didn't they? As the Dark Arts professor, of course she would be doing her job as such for the students. But there were other matters to be taken care of first.


	6. The Offer

All rights belong to Rowling (except for my own special creations)

I may not write much more for a bit, unless there is a cry otherwise. Holidays and all.

The Offer

On the first day of classes there was as much chatter, laughing, running about and anticipation as there had ever been at Hogwarts. Harry found himself too bogged down in homework to even think more than three times about the prophecy and any severely serious issues. He'd not foreseen just how much pressure upperclassmen faced with all the exams and projects. Hermione was positively giddy. Ron grumbled often how cheery she was, and made more than one grimace behind her back.

Harry found himself understanding how she felt, grateful to be back at Hogwarts. He was especially glad to be back on the Quidditch field, despite changes to the team. Playing was as thrilling and relieving as it had always been.

He was intrigued to find how much he anticipated classes with Thisbe Threadgood. He had a good feeling about her ability to teach, compared to some of those who had held the mantle of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor before her.

The other faculty were acting a bit odd towards her, he noticed. They would whisper covertly when she was not around and quiet suspiciously when she appeared. Considering the previous issues of former Dark Arts teachers, he did not find this overly adverse. Still, he was feeling encouraged by the reviews other students had given her.

He was on his way to Potions with Ron and Hermione when his good mood darkened as a familiar drawling voice reached his ears.

"Well, well, Potter. How are you feeling today? Rather smug?" Draco said snidely as he walked past with his brutish entourage. The blond boy seemed to have relaxed some from the irrepressible fury he exhibited at the end of last year. Harry scowled at him.

"What are you on about, Malfoy?" he growled. He was not feeling particularly indulgent this morning. He was far less tolerant now of anyone to do with the Death-Eaters than he had been in years prior. Draco laughed as though Harry had slipped and fallen on his face.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Just thought you might be gloating about your little triumph over You-Know-Who last year," Draco sneered the word 'triumph.' Harry's scowl deepened. Hermione and Ron smelled danger, and rushed Harry past the bullies with some snide parting comments.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. He's just upset his father's having a rough time," Hermione comforted. Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, had been tossed into Azkaban along with other fellow Death-Eaters at the end of last year, but had since been pulling strings and pressing wallets to get out. No luck yet, but it was only a matter of time, they were sure.

"Too right! And well he should," Ron said. "He's just trying to goad you, Harry. I'll talk to Fred and George about some good stuff to use on him later, alright?"

Harry grinned in spite of his anger and continued to the dungeons. His gloomy mood did not lift, however, as now he would have to endure lessons with the most hated teacher at Hogwarts. A teacher he himself was still angry with, had not yet forgiven...

He had turned the corner to descend the stairs to the Potions classroom and nearly bowled into the imposing figure of Snape, as though the professor had leapt from his mind to glower at him for thinking disrespectfully. His eyes narrowed. Snape's face twisted into an even more unpleasant expression.

"Watch where you're going, Potter!" he growled. Hermione opened her mouth, but Harry beat her to it.

"Sorry, sir," Harry said insincerely. "I was just on my way to your class." Snape's voice oozed with venom as though he hoped Harry might be infected the nastier he sounded.

"See that you get there without delay. If I find you loitering around these-" The Potions master's mouth clamped shut and he straightened as though he'd been stuck in the rear with a wand. Harry blinked, confused until he heard someone call his name.

He turned and saw Professor Threadgood striding towards them. She smiled at Harry, then looked to Snape, who was eyeing her warily. She raised an eyebrow at the man's guarded expression.

"Just what are you sneering at, Severus?" she smirked. Severus frowned.

"I am not sneering... Thisbe," he drawled.

"You most certainly are." Snape sighed.

"Should we not be attending to our respective duties as professors instead of arguing over trite matters?" Snape dismissed her, and turned his scowl on Harry. "Now, Mr. Potter, you have two minutes to get to my dungeon, or I shall-AH!"

Harry's eyes snapped wide as he witnessed the unusual sight of the disagreeable Potions professor jerking upright and yelping like a startled rabbit. Hermione gasped and Ron's hand flew to his mouth as he coughed suspiciously.

Snape whirled to look fiercely at an unruffled Threadgood, smoothing his robes in indignation. She blinked at the sulking man's accusing stare.

"What on earth are you glaring for?" she asked mildly, stepping quickly around him to take Harry by the arm. "Come, Mr. Potter. I've something I want to talk to you about. I'll see you at the faculty meeting, Severus!"

And she hurried away with Harry on one arm as the tall, greasy-haired man burned holes into their backs with his glower. Ron and Hermione continued after, a few steps back and watching with curiosity.

"What did you do, Professor?" Harry asked, a little dazed.

"Do? Whatever do you mean, Mr. Potter?" she murmured, though he saw her tucking her ebony wand into her robes and suspected she was quite as guilty as he suspected. He fought the urge to laugh, and settled for being astounded that a professor would act so inappropriately in front of students. More so that Snape had not hexed her through a Quidditch hoop. He certainly would have if Harry had done that. "Now... I wanted to request your help with a small matter, Mr. Potter. If you have time for it, of course. I understand you have plenty on your plate with classes, practice and your club as it is."

Harry was surprised.

"You know about all that?" he asked. Threadgood smiled kindly at him.

"I took the liberty of checking your schedule before I approached you with my request," she explained. "If you would be willing, I would like to have your help with some research I am working on. As Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned, I was an academic before I took this job, and it is a project I loathe to put on hold. But I will need some assistance if I am to continue." They stopped outside the Potions room. Hermione and Ron waved as they walked inside. Harry nodded and looked back to Threadgood.

"Why me, Professor? If you know I am busy... I mean, it's not that I don't want to help..." he began.

"I chose you, Mr. Potter, because I know you to be most concerned about the Dark Arts, demonstrated by your heritage and your role as...well, as a leader among your peers. My work is to do with the Dark Arts. And as you are also training to be an auror, I thought it would be applicable to your education," she explained. Harry felt a blush creep across his cheeks.

Threadgood sensed his hesitation and patted his shoulder.

"Take some time to consider it. I would require your assistance once a week, twice if you can manage it, for an hour or two in the evenings," she said, then leaned closer. "Now... I suggest you hurry before a certain grumpy personage comes swooping down on you to exact some revenge." Threadgood winked and turned to ascend the stairs.

Harry watched her go, and saw Snape descending with his black cape billowing behind. Against his better judgment, he waited to watch as they stopped on the stairs, Snape glaring down at Threadgood and Threadgood staring up at Snape.

"Thisbe..." came Snape's low whisper. "I would appreciate if you do not act...improperly, now that you hold a position of esteem." Harry almost snorted out loud. As though being an auror wasn't of esteem?

Threadgood advanced a few steps so she was standing next to the tall, lanky man. The Potions master inhaled sharply at her approach and stiffened. His black eyes were wide and calculating, like a predator eyeing a rival.

"Severus, I assure you I will always act with the utmost discretion," she grinned. Snape's frown deepened.

"Of that, I have no doubt," he said snidely. Threadgood laughed, and Snape stared as though Peeves had just pelted by tossing eggs and singing crude songs.

"Severus, do lighten up. I haven't seen you in ages..." she sighed, shaking her head and smiling at him. He seemed to grow even more uncomfortable under her friendly gaze. "I've been meaning to get hold of you since I've been here. Would you have tea with me this week so that we can catch up?" Harry blinked in surprise.

Severus turned even whiter than his pale complexion usually allowed.

"I am a very busy man, Thisbe. Especially now that Albus has requested a rather daunting brew from me," he managed to snap, pointedly avoiding eye contact with her now. "I do not have time for trivialities like afternoon tea. Excuse me." He hastened down the steps without a backward glance.

"But, Severus, surely you... Severus!"

Threadgood looked perturbed as the man ignored her, sweeping onward, intent on escaping to his classroom. Harry scuttled backward to avoid being seen as she frowned and cupped her hands around her mouth.

"It doesn't have to be in the afternoon!!" she shouted defiantly after him. Harry quickly ran inside to his seat before Snape could assign him detention for the next eight weeks.

Ron and Hermione were giggling quietly. They apparently heard the part Threadgood had hollered.

Snape stormed in and the class immediately fell silent at his more grim than usual demeanor. All except Draco, who stuck up his hand with a smug expression. Harry felt his stomach flip.

"Professor Snape, sir," Draco called the man's attention innocently. Snape whirled, his hair flying about his white face like a ghoul. "Beg your pardon, but was there something of interest to the class going on in the hallway?" The traitorous boy hurried quickly at the wild look that came into Snape's eyes. "Because, sir, Mr. Potter seemed to find it very interesting, and...and I wouldn't want the Gryffindor's having an unfair advantage...sir."

"That snake," Hermione hissed.

The great specter of Snape turned and bore down on Harry like a demon thirsting after a soul. He grasped the desk with white-knuckled fingers and leaned in so close they could see the yellow of his teeth.

"A detention for each of the five minutes you loitered, Mr. Potter. And ten points from Gryffindor for your impertinence," he snarled viciously. Harry bit back a rebuke and fumed in silence.

Ron turned red with anger as Snape pounded up to his desk and growled something about frog fingers and powdered weevil.

"That's totally unfair!" he hissed. He threw himself back in his chair and crossed his arms. "After all that's happened and he's still being a wretched git." Harry scowled and said nothing.

"If Draco wasn't so fixated on getting Harry in trouble," Hermione sent a glare at the gloating Slytherin. "The school's going to be more divided than ever before."

"It doesn't matter," Harry muttered.

"What?" Ron turned to him. Harry shook his head.

"Nothing," he sighed.

Hermione poked them both and jerked her head at the figure of Snape, who had started to send suspicious glances their way. The three quieted and focused on the assignment before he could invent more ways to punish them.

After a dreadful Potions lesson where Gryffindor suffered twenty more points between Neville boiling his cauldron over and Ron accidentally flicking a piece of pig guts across the room onto Snape's robes, the three friends trudged through the halls to their common room.

Harry was still thinking on the day and decided to confide in his friends when they settled into the comfy chairs by the fireplace.

"Look," he began. "I don't know why, but Snape seems really uncomfortable around Threadgood. I mean...a lot of the teachers have been whispering about her anyway, but..."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Ron nodded. Hermione shook her head.

"I've asked around, but no one seems to know much about her. Or maybe they're just not saying anything. But I did hear she's apparently having private sessions with Dumbledore," she said. Ron raised his eyebrows.

"For what?" he asked incredulously. Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know," Harry said. He did not understand why he was so interested in the new professor. Perhaps because it was keeping his mind off worse things. "You know, at first I thought maybe she had taunted Snape with...with my father and the others, because she said she had been their friends. But I don't think so anymore."

"You did see her make him jump like a cat in the hall, didn't you?" Ron pointed out skeptically.

"Yes, but if that had been anyone else don't you think Snape would've... I don't know. Done something?" Harry asked. Ron thought about it a second, then shrugged.

"Well... Maybe he respects her...or likes her or something," Hermione suggested. They all looked at each other. Ron grimaced and clutched his stomach.

"Hermione, really. I just ate five hours ago." Hermione shrugged.

"Well, what do you expect? It's not as though the teachers are going to pull out their wands and start hexing each other in the middle of the halls, especially at a time like this. Now would you two please stop worrying about this?We've other things far more important to concentrate on," she said.

"Yeah, like when we can go see my brothers at their new shop. I hear business is going well! They've even got some new inventions just put out," Ron grinned evilly. "I can't wait to try them on Malfoy." Hermione shook her head, but said nothing as she ducked back down to her work. Harry smiled. They were acting more like an old couple with each day.


End file.
